


Somewhere

by spinsterclaire



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Childhood, Drabble, Gen, Marriage, One Shot, teenage love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 00:54:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1100539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinsterclaire/pseuds/spinsterclaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little one-shot/drabble on Rhaegar and Cersei's relationship throughout the years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somewhere

It was known since the day she was born that Cersei would marry Rhaegar Targaryen. He was three inches taller than her, a storm of purple eyes and silvery-white hair, and she fancied him a god in all his ethereal, luminescent glory. While Cersei was spring, Rhaegar was winter, with its icy winds and glowing hearths. He was mercurial, that boy - almost as much as she was – and together, their parents said, they would roar and breathe a fire like the world had never seen.

At age six, Rhaegar promised Cersei he would pick her up from school astride the back of a giant dragon.

 “Not a dragon, a _lion_ ,” she said without hesitation. But when he scrunched up his nose in disapproval, she surrendered the fantasy in an instant, trying to imagine the roughness of scales beneath her fingertips instead. They would feel different than fur, she knew, but she could grow to like them all the same.

“Fine,” she relented only seconds later. She feigned exasperation with a sigh and dramatic collapse of her shoulders, "A dragon, then." (In truth, though, she would have given Rhaegar Targaryen anything, let him get away with whatever his heart desired as long as he would be there, waiting for her as she ran down the stairs at three o’clock dismissal.)

“I’ll take you somewhere,” he repeated, smiling again, “You’ll see.”

At age sixteen, Rhaegar pulled up in his brand new BMW, and took her to the Christmas ball. She dressed in crimson (he liked her best in crimson), and beneath her gown she was all lace and silk (he’d requested it), an offering to her sacred god. They made love for the first time that night, gold and silver all spun together into a glittering tapestry, and after they finished he pushed a strand of hair behind her ear,

“I’ll take you anywhere, Cersei Lannister.”

She thought of where they might go – to Spain or to Italy, maybe even Brazil and India – but she decided that no other place could rival where they were in that moment.

“Stay with me,” she whispered, and when he kissed her, she thought he would be hers forever.

At age twenty-six, Rhaegar was to present her with a ring. They would wed, merging Lannister Inc. and Targaryen Enterprises into one powerhouse corporation, and buy a big house to fill with perfect little babies. At night, they’d put their children to bed, telling them tales of dragons and lions falling in love, while watching their eyes delicately flutter close.  _I'll take you somewhere..._

But he met someone else that year, and the only place Rhaegar visited was Tiffany’s on 42nd street, in search of a ring for a certain dark haired girl from Barcelona. It turned out that the silver god preferred autumn to spring, and when he went to Spain to visit his bride-to-be, Cersei stayed in London.

At age twenty-seven, Rhaegar Targaryen married Elia Martell. It was _they_ who had the perfect little babies, the grand merger, and the big house. _They_ were the ones who tucked their children into bed each night and whispered of armed dragons (with spears between their teeth, always spears between their teeth) killing lions in one swift strike. 


End file.
